Anmo Is Movie (1)
There was a subject in the Korean webtoon world that was doomed from the start.
And not doomed in the sense of “certain to win,” but doomed in the sense of certain defeat: film. Koreans loved movies, and they loved webtoons. But put the two together, and they turned away.
It was, quite literally, one of the industry’s great mysteries. And yet there had been a creator who found success with that barren thing called a movie webtoon.
His name was Yoo An-mo. At one point, Yoo An-mo had dreamed of becoming a film director, but when he ran into the wall of reality, he turned to webtoons.
Even so, the foundation of his imagination had always been cinema. Compromising with reality, he had become hugely popular with a macho raid series.
Still, perhaps a person destined to succeed would eventually succeed no matter what. Webtoon artists appearing on television happened to be the trend, and he, too, made a few appearances. With his easy banter, he became a “star webtoon artist.”
He trusted in that fame and took on a movie webtoon.
The title was Movie Admission Card. Movie Admission Card became almost the only movie webtoon that could truly be called a success.
But Yoo An-mo was not the type to stop there.
When star webtoon artists began starting YouTube channels, he quietly rode that wave as well. Yoo An-mo launched a channel called Anmo Is Movie.
And because he spent entire nights every day spinning stories, it had now become a proper film review channel with 300,000 subscribers. Then one day,
he spotted an editor named Mok Hyunsun on the “Novel N Movie” program from Gyeongseong Bukbuk, a channel he liked to watch. “Wh-what is that guy, exactly?” An editor who was “taking apart” Kim Bong-woon, the film critic famous for his sharp tongue?
And at the end, he even brought out a screenplay to land the finishing blow! From that moment on, Yoo An-mo kept his eye on Mok Hyunsun.
A few months later, just as expected, word came that Mok Hyunsun had made his critical debut in seven newspapers.
He was completely insane. To put it bluntly, Yoo An-mo wanted to poke at him a little.
What on earth was in that head of his?
What would a person like that say about film? But webtoons and literature were entirely different worlds.
It was hard to find a place where the two touched. Then he heard a rumor.
...That in the summer issue of Gyeongseong Geul, Mok Hyunsun had written a review of Saekdong.
As a film nerd, he knew Saekdong too.
Truthfully, it had never struck him as a particularly remarkable film.
But when he saw Mok Hyunsun’s commentary, feelings that had not existed before began bubbling up.
No, if you could watch this and still remain unmoved, wouldn’t there be something wrong with your senses?
“Ugh... I can’t take it anymore.” It was time to reach out to him directly.
He wanted to grab him and talk about film.
All the better if it was in front of a camera.
And as it happened, a good opportunity had come along.
Yang Yeon-gyu, the most famous film critic in Korea.
An invited session with Yang Yeon-gyu was scheduled soon.
“People in Korea supposedly check Yang Yeon-gyu’s star rating before they even decide whether to watch a film. With a scale like that, he’ll probably come on, right?” The live broadcast was next week. “The timing is perfect.” He began writing Mok Hyunsun a message.
The email arrived from webtoon artist Yoo An-mo.
He was asking me to appear on his YouTube channel.
I declined immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m a literary critic, not a film critic.”
To be honest, it was not the time to go talking nonsense on YouTube.
I was still trying to decide what, exactly, I should handle on Soop.
Something too serious and heavy was no good, but neither did I want to give up the literary value of the written word.
Finding the right temperature for that turned out to be harder than I expected. In any case, the moment I sent that refusal, buzz—.
A DM arrived on my NStar account.
Not on Soop, but on the main account I didn’t even use.
Hello. I’m webtoon artist and YouTuber Yoo An-mo. I hate to be rude, but blabla... Would there be any way I could ask you again? T_T T_T
Well. Persistent.
I don’t really know much about film.
...You’re joking, right?
I’m serious.
As I mentioned in the email, film critic Yang Yeon-gyu will also be there Critic Yang Yeon-gyu is truly hoping for this meeting too.
Then that puts me at ease. He’s an excellent man, so you shouldn’t need me.
No, that’s not what I meant Please, don’t feel pressured. Just saying what you wrote in Gyeongseong Geul would be enough.
Why would I need to say again what I’ve already said.
Then you can say something you haven’t said!
Really now. The man was throwing every word he could think of at the wall. It was almost pitiful.
But I do not work on liking someone or feeling good about them alone.
“It’s a shame... but I don’t really have any words I didn’t already write in Gyeongseong Geul....”
As I typed my reply, I hesitated.
...That wasn’t entirely true.
There were things I had not written, only because I had to keep within the standards of Gyeongseong Geul.
Saekdong actually contains dozens of murders.
And they are quite explicit, in a sexual way.
I had avoided that part in Gyeongseong Geul.
To pass the strict review of a mainstream quarterly.
...But on YouTube?
There was no reason I couldn’t say it.
“And Yang Yeon-gyu, too.” I had always liked Yang Yeon-gyu myself.
He was known for objective film criticism and deep analysis.
Talking openly about the parts of Saekdong I had not been able to include in Gyeongseong Geul sounded, in its own way, fun.
I deleted the DM I had been writing and instead typed this:
The subject matter may be a bit extreme.
!!!
The live broadcast might get shut down. If that’s fine with you, I’ll come.
For a moment, only the “...” indicator bobbed in the DM window.
Yoo An-mo was clearly typing and deleting something over and over. Maybe he was writing that it absolutely could not be forcibly ended.
Then this side would have to refuse politely.
If I could not say what I wanted to say, there was no reason to meet Yang Yeon-gyu at all.
But then: Extreme story? Even better!!!
...Yoo An-mo was not ordinary either.
“Wow.” A personal broadcast studio.
Now that I was actually there, it was even more dazzling than I’d expected. Monitors, speakers, lights, some sort of output device.
I was no expert on machines or computers, so I could not say much, but I could tell, at the very least, that a great deal of money had gone into it.
While the staff prepared the broadcast, Yoo An-mo greeted me with his usual broad grin.
“Thank you so, so much for coming, Critic Mok. I’m seriously a huge fan. Oh, these are my webtoon volumes.”
“Oh, thank you. I’ve read them all.”
“Huh? You’ve seen my work?”
“Of course. And I do read webtoons myself.”
During the grueling job hunt, what had comforted me more than anything?
Webtoons I could read quickly, and that didn’t cost anything.
I had read almost all of Yoo An-mo’s work without missing much.
He acted all exaggerated and flamboyant, but he was a remarkably capable artist. “I see! Honestly, since you turned down every broadcast offer so sharply, I thought maybe you didn’t like me very much.”
“Ha. Personal fondness and work are separate matters.”
“...That’s oddly warm and oddly sharp at the same time.”
“I hear that a lot. That I seem caring but am actually completely cold, or that I seem cold but am secretly affectionate. I’m not sure myself.”
“Heh. I think I get it. Ah! Critic Yang has arrived.”
Yang Yeon-gyu appeared as the studio door opened.
A neatly dressed man in his early forties.
I had seen him often enough across various media, but in person he seemed even sharper.
He came straight over to me and shook my hand.
“So you’re Critic Mok. I’ve read every single piece you’ve published.”
His tone was calm and gentle.
He was courteous, but not in a way that put distance between us.
Serious, but not off-putting.
That was my first impression of Yang Yeon-gyu.
And Yoo An-mo, looking at the two of us, drifted off into sentimental nonsense. “Seeing this two-shot makes me feel like I’ve achieved my dream. Hngh, I was right to succeed.”
Before long, the live broadcast began.
“Today we’ve got two genuinely famous guests with us. Haha! I’m honestly so proud right now. All right, could we start with introductions?”
“Hello. Nice to see you again. I’m film critic Yang Yeon-gyu.”
At last it was my turn. My heart thudded.
In truth, I had imagined the scene many times.
A beautiful exchange between the microphone, the chat window, and the internet.
A close encounter with readers.
“Hello. I’m literary critic Mok Hyunsun. ...Ah.”
The chat moved too fast.
Not just fast, but so fast my eyes could barely keep up.
As though he had expected this, Yoo An-mo began acting up.
“Having both critics here is blowing up the chat right now~ Oh my, I can’t even read it? Should we just get on with it? Haha.”
...Sadly, that beautiful internet exchange seemed to be ruined.
Tch. In that case, I might as well talk comfortably too.
First, Yoo An-mo brought up Saekdong, showing its stills as he explained the plot.
“...That’s the story. Interesting, right? A lot of people probably encountered it through Critic Mok’s review in Gyeongseong Geul. Today, the two critics are going to talk about the parts they couldn’t fit into print.”
Yoo An-mo’s eyes shone as he looked at me.
It meant it was time to begin.
Well, then.
“Shall we start with the sex in the film?”
Yoo An-mo’s eyes went wide.
For a moment, the chat that had been racing so quickly fell silent.
I told you.
I said the broadcast might get forcibly shut down.
Now I didn’t know anymore.
I had been given permission, so I would walk my own path.
It was Yang Yeon-gyu who broke that silence.
“Sex is an indispensable element in Saekdong. I was already disappointed that you avoided that part in your review.”
Perhaps because of his calm voice, the subject I had raised did not feel vulgar at all.
It was amusing.
I was good at getting people’s dopamine going, but he seemed to have a gift for settling them down.
And so the two of us began our discussion.
“I didn’t write about it in Gyeongseong Geul because of the standards there, but this woman, Hwa-yeon, always kills her clients after sleeping with them. Or rather, she might not need to. But I think that was the director’s intention.”
“Yes, that’s right, Critic Mok. Director Kim Ki-woon foregrounds sex as a central keyword. If we infer his reasons, the first is that it draws attention. The second is that sex is the chief material through which the film reveals its cult nature.”
“Mm. Critic Yang, I think there’s also a third, very important reason.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
Yang Yeon-gyu’s eyes glinted behind his glasses.
“Because sex and murder meet at a certain point.”
“Ah! I see! Yes, exactly. Not only in criminal psychology, but in many forms of art, murder and sex function as similar symbols. There was... which book was it again? It dealt with that very actively. I read it so long ago....”
To the man grappling with his memory, I said with a smile, “Murder and Sex. It was an old book published by Gyeongseong Publishing in 1993. There’s also a chapter on cults in it. As you said, it states that ‘sex and murder are ultimately nothing more than different expressions of sexual symbolism.’”
“You remember that book so precisely? Heh, amazing.”
So this was what they called good chemistry.
Yang Yeon-gyu and I spoke extremely well together.
With Yoo An-mo trapped in the middle, unable to wedge a word in.
I kept going. “In any case, that book says it as well. The cutting of flesh, the spilling of blood, the infliction of pain, and the fact that it cannot be undone. All of it shows that murder and sex share similar traits.”
“Agreed. And it connects to Saekdong as well. Hwa-yeon’s killings may carry the meaning of a parasite becoming active through murder, transforming from a being who can only be passive in sex into an active one.”
“I agree with that point too, Critic Yang. A man’s body, stripped naked and lying in a room soaked with blood, can also symbolize the image of a woman after sex. In the end, it reverses the positions of man and woman.”
It was enjoyable. Extremely enjoyable.
Was talking to a critic who understood me always this much fun?
Then, at that moment, something astonishing happened.
“But, um, critics.” Yoo An-mo spoke up carefully.
“That murder scene you mentioned gives off a very strong sense of color, even though it’s a black-and-white film.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“In that sense, the way Director Kim Ki-woon handles sex could also be explained as a kind of ‘cult fantasy,’ couldn’t it?”
Yoo An-mo’s depth was better than I had expected.